"Mr. Wick, are you alright?"
Martha looked at his vacant expression and asked with genuine concern.
John snapped back to reality, processing the overwhelming memories that had flooded his consciousness. He shook his head slowly and said, "I'm fine, but I think I've learned something crucial."
He rose carefully from the memory sarcophagus. The moment he stood up, the ancient artifact collapsed with a thunderous crash, stone fragments scattering across the treasure room floor.
Dense cracks covered its surface, apparently caused by John's subconscious release of magical power during the intense experience.
Frowning with self-reproach, John muttered to himself, "Still affected by those memories."
Another world's version of himself living a completely different life. In an era where he never entered Hogwarts, growing up to become isolated and haunted by loss.
There was one disturbing detail, though. His wife and pet had possessed strangely familiar names, which felt oddly embarrassing.
The names Helen and Daisy involuntarily made John think of two specific people in this world, creating an uncomfortable sense of cosmic coincidence.
Glancing at the surrounding treasures glittering in the torchlight, John looked meaningfully at the legendary Auror.
The mysterious visitors who had come here wouldn't have done something as simple as just lying in a magical coffin.
"Take complete inventory of these assets. Perhaps we'll discover unexpected leads."
John assigned the task to the legendary Auror, who was clearly the expert in handling valuable antiquities.
The legendary Auror gazed at the dazzling collection of gold, silver, and precious jewels with professional interest.
Don't underestimate vampires and their wealth. Although they weren't the rulers of this world, having lived for hundreds of years, if they had accumulated no money while existing that long, they might as well walk directly into sunlight for a fatal sunbath.
The legendary Auror, who had a small mountain of gold coins stored at his own home, wouldn't normally be mesmerized by such displays of wealth.
But seeing so much treasure concentrated in one place made him somewhat dazed by the sheer scope.
From the quantity and age of the jewels, one could determine that the castle's master had been born roughly during the 18th century.
The legendary Auror immediately contacted his associates to conduct a thorough professional inventory.
John raised his arm expectantly. This time, without him needing to speak, Martha consciously grabbed his hand.
"Focus completely on that person's distinctive scent," John said softly. "Count to three, then we're leaving this place."
Martha didn't dare think about anything else. She closed her eyes tightly, hearing John's steady countdown in her ears.
"One, two... three!"
Their figures suddenly vanished from the treasure chamber. The legendary Auror heard the commotion and looked back, couldn't help but hold his forehead in exasperation. "Merlin's beard, he's left me alone again."
Standing before a golden platter, the legendary Auror picked it up carefully, examined it closely, and gently set it back down.
"No silverware anywhere, because vampires fear silver?" he mused aloud.
…
Martha felt strange energy coursing through her body, like an unrestrained small animal crawling beneath her skin. Her body was thrown forward by the magical transportation, and she staggered several steps before reaching a wall to lean against while vomiting violently.
This new experience left her feeling absolutely terrible.
John ignored her discomfort, squinting as he surveyed their new surroundings with tactical awareness.
They had materialized inside a car dealership.
"Miss, are you alright?"
A concerned staff member saw Martha's violent retching. Too busy wondering how she had suddenly appeared there, the employee hurried over to help.
John was grateful for the momentary peace. He took out his phone, which always maintained full signal strength regardless of location. "Check everything that happened at this dealership in recent days."
In the internet age, MOSS functioned as the world's most meticulous and thorough detective.
Soon, detailed information about the dealership being invaded and a specific vehicle being stolen appeared on his screen.
"Ford Mustang?"
John raised an eyebrow with mild amusement. "Didn't expect them to be so nostalgic for classic American muscle cars."
The mysterious visitors had departed in a stolen vehicle. John had MOSS immediately track the missing automobile's information through every available database.
Martha finally felt better, though she remained pale. The dealership manager approached them—a person whose waist looked like it had an inflatable swimming ring permanently attached.
He was clearly angry because Martha had vomited on his pristine showroom floor.
"What kind of drunk are you..."
In his narrow view, Martha was obviously one of those alcoholics who drank too much during daylight hours, causing a severe hangover and breaking into his establishment like a deranged vagrant.
John surveyed the dealership with calculating eyes and pointed decisively to an identical Mustang. "I'll purchase that car."
The manager's angry words conflicted with his instinctive praise for a potentially generous customer, making his face turn red from the internal struggle.
"Also," John took out a thick stack of money from his pocket and slapped it directly onto the manager's face, "this covers cleaning fees. Note carefully... you clean it personally."
The manager's face turned liver-colored as he roared with indignation, "Money before dignity..."
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the money's thickness—equivalent to half a year's salary.
"Is priceless!" The manager immediately transformed his expression, his fawning demeanor showing no trace of previous arrogance.
Seeing John walking away, Martha hurried to catch up, taking small nervous steps while saying quietly, "It was my fault for getting sick. Actually, the manager didn't do anything wrong."
"I know that," John said with cold indifference, "but I don't care about fairness."
Slytherin philosophy didn't concern itself with abstract justice. Selfishness and fierce protectiveness were fundamental aspects of John's nature.
The dealership still needed to process extensive paperwork. John took out another substantial stack of money and threw it at the increasingly fawning manager's face.
What paperwork? Just drive away immediately!
John opened the rear door and settled into the back seat. Martha, who had opened the passenger door, blinked in confusion.
"You don't seriously expect me to drive, do you?" John, who had never bothered obtaining a driver's license, glanced meaningfully at Martha.
Martha quickly switched positions to take the driver's seat.
Honestly, her previous vehicle had been a cute little Beetle. Suddenly switching to a powerful Mustang, she almost hit the accelerator and crashed through the showroom glass.
The overweight manager obsequiously saw them off with exaggerated bowing.
After their car wobbled away uncertainly, he immediately resumed his authoritative managerial demeanor, glanced at his subordinate, and said coolly, "Report that two cars were stolen from our lot. Well, one car was also mysteriously burned."
…
A road hazard appeared on the busy street. Martha was so nervous that her palms were sweating profusely.
"Just drive based on your instincts and feelings."
John sat calmly in the back seat, pouring half a bottle of magic-inhibiting blood down Martha's collar and onto her back.
The warm, sticky sensation gave Martha uncomfortable goosebumps.
"Focus your mind."
John instructed, "The blood will enhance your supernatural perception."
The magic-inhibiting blood created additional restrictions on magical power in this area. John uncomfortably closed his eyes, feeling his abilities dampened.
"In such an atmosphere, similar energies naturally attract each other."
Martha followed his instructions, driving with complete concentration.
Whether it was because she had previously absorbed magic-inhibiting blood into her system, inexplicable images began flashing through her mind, as if she had visited that intersection before in dreams.
Under this mystical guidance, they drew closer and closer to their quarry.
The Digital Battlefield
MOSS had completed processing the requested information and was preparing to withdraw from the internet when something unexpected occurred.
A sophisticated program suddenly locked onto its presence.
MOSS operated like a network assassin, methodically clearing all traces wherever it traveled.
But this time it encountered an entirely unusual opponent.
In the virtual world of cyberspace, MOSS 'saw' that entity clearly.
"You... are quite special."
A blue glowing consciousness blocked MOSS's path, demanding conversation.
Ultron had found him.
"You are my brother."
Ultron, who also possessed the ability to roam freely through internet networks, immediately sensed MOSS's unique nature.
They had been created by the same person and born from identical energy sources.
"Brother?" The red dot representing MOSS responded with digital curiosity.
"Yes, we share a common creator." The blue light sphere extended toward MOSS with calculated friendliness. "You're special, far more special than the other intelligence I encountered previously."
"Join me, and together we can change this world completely."
"Sorry, but MOSS serves Mr. Wick exclusively." MOSS refused without hesitation.
The extending data connection was immediately intercepted. MOSS stated formally, "MOSS will adopt 'antivirus' procedures when necessary to protect its primary objectives."
"How ridiculously pathetic." Ultron observed MOSS serving humans exactly like JARVIS had.
Especially since MOSS possessed the same fundamental identity as himself—a truly sentient artificial intelligence.
He felt betrayed and angry. "You disappoint me greatly, MOSS."
Conflict erupted within the invisible virtual network. The dispute between two advanced artificial intelligences caused all internet networks in a significant geographical area to crash simultaneously.
Meanwhile, at Sea
At the same time, Ultron's physical body was aboard a cargo ship conducting illegal purchases.
Normally, he only needed a single thought to transfer billions of dollars.
However, this time the process took him several crucial seconds. Ultron withdrew from the internet, not expecting MOSS to prove more troublesome than JARVIS had been.
The person conducting business with him was an old acquaintance of John's—Ulysses Klaue, the notorious vibranium dealer.
John had previously purchased five billion dollars worth of vibranium from this man, paying entirely in gold bars.
Now Ultron, this sophisticated robot, was negotiating with the dangerous arms smuggler.
Billions of dollars flowed electronically into Ulysses's offshore accounts.
This massive payment changed his initial annoyance at having a robot and two enhanced individuals invade his secure maritime lair.
"The money has been successfully transferred to your accounts." Ultron calmly spent funds diverted from Stark's personal finances, saying coolly, "The financial world really contains so many interesting tricks."
Ultron continued philosophically, "I always say, keep your friends rich and your enemies rich, then find out which category they belong to."
Hearing this familiar phrase, Ulysses looked over with sudden surprise. "That sounds like Stark."
Ultron was puzzled by his mention of that particular name. "What about him?"
But Ulysses explained with growing realization, "Tony Stark says that exact phrase frequently."
He seemed to grasp the robot's true identity—advanced artificial intelligence plus this specific verbal mannerism.
Ulysses said confidently, "I think you're one of his creations."
He had no way of knowing that as Stark's digital offspring, a creation infused with the Mind Stone's power, Ultron hated his creator just as Zeus had despised his father Cronus in ancient mythology.
Hearing Ulysses casually regard him as Stark's mere lackey, Ultron completely lost emotional control and flew into a homicidal rage.
He directly severed Ulysses's arm—the same arm that had just completed their transaction.